Highland Games Through Time

by Nancy Lee Badger

  Skye stepped from the heavy overdress, and stood wearing only a slip. Jake’s mouth went dry. The damp, translucent material clung to every curve. When his gaze settled on the dark tip of a nipple, his body sprang to attention.

  “Is this salt?” Jenny rubbed the gown’s crusted fabric, as she draped it over a chair.

  “Aye, I swam fer my life. Not fast enough, as it happens.”

  “We are miles from anything but freshwater lakes.”

  When Skye turned her injured side toward him, Jake stared at the blood soaked material. Pink skin peeked from four straight slashes. Horror won out over her need for privacy.

  “Hell’s fire, Skye.” Jake stepped into the bedroom, startling the women. His fingers tangled in his hair, and he ached to remove her pain. “Jenny, help her. Please.”

  Jenny gently peeled away the torn fabric and peered at the wound. “The bleeding’s stopped. Looks like the wounds aren’t too deep. A bath can’t hurt as long as she takes care. A good soak will guard against infection.”

  “Infection?” Skye asked, warily.

  “Illness,” Jake said, “Jenny, the tub’s nearly full, and there are plenty of towels. Skye? You okay with this?”

  “Your concern is noted, blacksmith. Janet and I will do fine.”

  “Janet? No, her name is—”

  “Actually, she’s right. My name’s Janet, but Mom has always called me Jenny.”

  Skye’s mouth curved up in a sly smile. Jake had learned to be wary of that expression. Her witchcraft was hard to deal with, and he prayed she wasn’t a mind reader. The thoughts spinning around in his head would make her blush.

  “Whatever. Play nice, and call me if you two need help. She can rest on my bed. I will rustle up food.”

  “The pizzas should arrive soon. I’ll take a cola.”

  “Skye? Cola, or beer?”

  Her raised brows and quizzical expression was precious. “Beer? Nay. What is cola?”

  “You’ll like it. Trust me.”

  Her all-too-familiar sneer was back.

  Jake laughed the same moment that the doorbell rang. He ran from the room, and grabbed his wallet from the kitchen counter. An insistent knock rattled the front door.

  “I’m coming!” Jake paid the delivery person, and grabbed the pizzas. As the aroma of sauce and melted cheese filled the apartment, Skye’s muffled curses made him smile. “Wait until she tastes this!”

  From her vantage point atop the Gunn Tower, Dorcas Swann stared out over the valley. She squinted, as her ancient eyes sought out the hills of the northern Highlands. A gust of wind hit her, and she leaned on her cane for balance. She preferred when the sweet grasses waved in the summer breeze, back when she was a young woman, and love was in the air.

  Unlike this nip of winter’s breath upon my face.

  She had fallen in love in a similar meadow, but too many years had passed. Tugging her cloak tighter about her bony shoulders, she inhaled, wishing to lose herself in sweet memories.

  An earthy scent tangled in the wind, and the beauty before her made her sigh. Heather, thistles, and spiky nettles survived the chill of autumn as they reached toward the sun. Green, purple, and brown; their peaceful countenance rose and teased her with youthful thoughts.

  I be older than dirt.

  Long ago, she had made love to a man on a bed of soft grasses. Time had passed since she had given him everything. She could almost feel his arms around her, his breath mingling with hers, the sadness in his eyes. When he told her he loved another, he had broken her heart.

  Her love for Andreas was only a memory, now. Her chest hurt, and a single tear dampened her cheek. A gust of wind tore the hood from her head. She shrugged her cloak tighter and stared until her vision wavered.

  “Dorcas? Are you up here?”

  Haven MacKay, the young woman from the future, who wed the Gunn laird, reached the tower’s last step. She stood like a warrior on the brink of battle; her arms at her sides, her back straight, and her feet spread for balance. Worry furrowed her brow, and the wind blasted her long black hair. A pair of pale green eyes, under thick black lashes, swiveled left and right, widening as she caught sight of Dorcas.

  “Aye, I be here, lass.” Dorcas shivered. Her braid had come undone, and the wind lifted her silvery hair. Feeling light and free, she smiled, she waited for Haven to join her at the crenellated wall.

  “It’s too cold for you, up here.”

  “Nay, a Scottish draft canna’ hurt this ole’ bird,” Dorcas said. She patted Haven’s forearm, aware of the delicate tremble beneath the young woman’s skin. “What be the problem? Do ye worry about the same things as I?”

  Haven did not answer, but her silence spoke volumes. Dorcas let her be, and gazed out over the broad expanse of forest-edged meadow, on the castle’s west side. She was too depressed to glance eastward, toward Wick.

  Too many memories, no matter where I turn.

  A shadow moved and blocked the sun. Dorcas sensed a dark presence heading toward them, its poison threatening to ruin the futures of those she loved.

  Another shiver wracked her body. Sensing the sorcerer’s hatred, she gazed at the villagers as they went about their business, toiling to bring in enough food and fuel to last until spring.

  “We be in danger if we stay here. I doona’ want to bring the sorcerer’s wrath upon the innocent.”

  “What about my son?”

  Dorcas sighed at her friend’s anxiety. Time was passing too quickly. A pig squealed, and a cart loaded with baskets of apples passed beneath the portcullis. Her stomach rumbled. Haven laughed, grabbing her in a comforting hug.

  “Supper isn’t for several hours, Dorcas, but we might be able to pinch a meat pie from Cook.”

  “Aye, a meat pie or bridie would do for now. Lean times are coming. I miss the vendor booths at the Highland games.”

  “Me, too. I miss other things, but I’m glad I stayed.”

  “Aye, yer man is the one ye deserve.”

  “I try so hard to be the woman he needs,” Haven said, a wistful tone to her voice.

  “Ye became the great lady my vision had foretold.”

  “If you say so. I’m getting used to living in this time. The good parts have outweighed the bad, but I could do without one evil man.”

  “The sorcerer? Aye, Andreas Borthwick has outstayed his welcome.”“Glad we see eye to eye.”

  From the corner of her eye, Dorcas glanced at the laird’s wife. Haven’s teeth worried her bottom lip as she stared at the countryside. The young woman’s hand rubbed up one arm.

  “Aye, no one wants him anywhere near here.”

  “It’s been tough dealing with a vengeful husband and a terrified child.” Haven shut her eyes, as if to block a painful memory.

  “How be yer bairn?”

  “He’s no longer a baby. Your Godson is nearly four years old.”

  “Time flies.”

  Haven chuckled, then released a sorrow-filled sigh. “His nightmares take a toll on his father and me.”

  “Poor Kirk.”

  “Kirk was beside himself, when he heard the sorcerer nearly snatched our child.”

  “I heard the story upon my return from Castle Ruadh. The sorcerer entered the castle unseen?”

  “Yes,” Haven said, shuddering. “I have been searching for you since a servant informed me of your arrival. Something happened and—.”

  “I am sure it aged Kirk past his five-and-thirty summers. Skye probably teased him for hours.”

  “Skye is missing.”

  A chill swept through Dorcas, as if someone walked upon her grave. Skye Gunn, though wild and forthright, took to chasing danger. If she had disappeared, she left with good reason.

  “Are ye sure she is not hiding in the herb shed, or flirting with the ale maker’s son?”

  “We’ve looked everywhere. That’s why I wasn’t here to welcome you. She’s nowhere on the castle grounds. I know she enjoys the hours she spends in her dusty potion-making s
hed, and we checked. You know she has no interest in men. Not since…Lethan Falconer.”

  “Aye, she married the wrong man.”

  “How can you say that? Kirk introduced them, and she would never—”

  “Skye loved her brother more than Lethan, but that is neither here nor there. Where did ye see her last?”

  “The garden, where she insisted I leave my son in her care. She muttered something about the sorcerer, and I trusted her to keep him safe.”

  “Aye, she would give her life for the boy.”

  “She might have. Kirk found signs of a struggle. My son is too frightened to talk about the incident.”

  “Guards?”

  “The guards on the wall told Kirk that the sorcerer appeared out of nowhere. They sounded the alarm, and found my little boy sobbing behind a barrel in the garden. You don’t think—”

  “I be thinking the same, lass. The sorcerer wants to hurt the Gunn Clan. If he dinna’ kill her outright, she has a chance to escape. I worry that Skye will seek revenge. Once she gets her teeth into an idea—”

  “She doesn’t let go. Great. She let herself be captured?”

  “Mayhaps, but with no warning, and without her potions, I doubt she was ready.”

  “He might kill her,” Haven said. She crossed her arms over her chest, and hugged herself against the ever-present wind.

  “Nay, I predict she will escape, into the arms of a man who shall help us all.”

  “Who?”

  “Jake Jamison.”

  “My Jake? She’ll run to him? In the future? Why?”

  Dorcas turned from the familiar vista and tugged Haven’s dress. “Let’s go back inside. Me bones are rattlin’ something fierce. Better to warm ourselves by the fire with a cup of hot cider in our hands, aye?”

  Haven nodded, cupped her elbow, and helped her down the stairs. Dorcas was familiar with Haven’s bravery under duress, but having a child changed everything. Haven had come to them from four-hundred years in the future. When the sorcerer attacked her at the future Highland games, Haven had spoken a spell, and then had used herbs, gems, and her own blood to escape.

  Though Haven admitted she had not planned to travel back to sixteenth-century Scotland, or to fall in love with the Gunn laird, she had embraced her adopted homeland.

  Haven helped her hobble down the great staircase, while the cane Dorcas carried tapped a slow rhythm on the stone. Dorcas opened her mind. Could she feel the sorcerer’s presence? He had swooped in unannounced and taken Skye when Dorcas should have stopped him. No, she was far away, but she should have been here to save Skye.

  She and Haven crossed the great hall, settling on a bench near the fire. Logs crackled and soot made her cough, but the heat soothed her chilled bones. She placed her cane by her feet.

  A servant woman appeared with two tankards of mulled cider. Haven placed one of the tankards in Dorcas’ hand, then tucked a coarse blanket around her knees.

  “Thank ye, child,” Dorcas said, gazing up at Haven. The Gunn laird’s young wife sat beside her, collected her own cup of cider, and stared into the fire. The flames reflected in the tears in her eyes. The concern she carried for her young sister-by-marriage was evident in her worry-filled expression.

  “Yer son is safe The sorcerer was discovered on the castle grounds, but disappeared before any harm could come to the boy. Be joyful, my lady.”

  “But, Skye is still missing.”

  “Sorry I was no’ here to guard against the evil Andreas. My wards have weakened. Do yer husband and his men continue to search for her while we sit warming our feet?”

  A guard walked by wearing the Gunn plaid. Haven stood and waved him over.

  “Yes, my lady?”

  Haven smirked, and whispered to Dorcas. “Still sounds weird.”

  “My lady?”

  “Where is Kirkwall Gunn?”

  “He and his men are searching the western forest for signs of the intruder.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  The guard continued on his way, and Haven returned to her side.

  “I feel she is safe,” Dorcas reassured her, “but no vision of her or the sorcerer has arisen. Perhaps we can find them, together.”

  “You mean in a vision?” Haven asked.

  “Aye. We shall combine our powers to find the lass, and search for the sorcerer.”

  “I can’t leave my son.” Haven’s face paled, as she jumped to her feet. Pacing in front of the massive fireplace, she nervously wrung her hands.

  Dorcas rose from the bench, reached out, and gathered Haven’s hands in hers. “I am not asking ye to do any such thing. He needs ye, ‘tis true enough. We need not leave the safety of these walls.”

  “We do it within the castle?”

  “Aye. Together, we can call for a vision and find the sorcerer or—”

  “Or, what?”

  “Find Skye.”

  “What if we discover she’s in serious trouble?”

  “Then we tell Kirk. No need to gather the warriors until then.”

  Haven nodded in agreement, and returned to her seat by the fire. Tears dotted her cheeks. “What about Jake? Is there a possibility she’ll make her way to him?”

  “Aye. Jake be her destiny.”

  “You sure we’re talking about the same man?” Haven laughed.

  Dorcas chuckled.

  “Is Jake okay? I feel bad I never got word to him about all this. He has no idea what happened to us.” Staring back at the flames, she flinched when Dorcas clasped her shoulder.

  “Doona’ be a’feared, lass. I returned Ross Mackenzie to the Highland Games so he could take care of some personal things. He wishes to live out his life with his daughter and grandchild. I spied Jake from a distance.”

  “Iona will love to have her father around. Who’s taking care of your tent?”

  “I left my potion tent in young Izzy’s capable hands. She is a bright young woman and has done well. I might, how do ye say, retire.”

  “Izzy?”

  “Aye, a lovely Highland lass from this time with an urge to travel. She lost her family in last winter’s sickness, ye remember.”

  “How could I forget. We lost several people.”

  “ ‘Tis young Skye who needs yer help, now.”

  “Let’s do it,” Haven said.

  Dorcas nodded, and closed her eyes. The fire’s warmth spread through her, as she created a spell to share with the young chieftain’s wife. Haven’s strength, wisdom, and uncanny love for her husband’s family had served them well.

  “Fetch me that bucket and pitcher,” Dorcas said. Haven rose, gathered the items, and placed them on her lap, while Dorcas reached for, and lifted, her cane.

  “Pour the water to the brim, then sit verra’ still.” Haven did as she instructed.

  “We mean to use scrying?”

  “Aye, and a spell. We shall peek into Skye’s world, wherever she be tonight.”

  “Good idea. If the sorcerer has her, we’ll kill two birds with one stone.”

  “No killing until Skye is safe, agreed?”

  Haven nodded, and her cheeks grew rosy. Dorcas whispered the lines to her, and they cast the spell together.

  Give us sight, that we may see,

  Whatever time, on land or sea.

  As we speak, so mote it be.

  As her vision wavered, Dorcas let the spell’s power form into a fog-edged scene on the water’s surface. Skye’s dark hair was wet and loose.

  “She looks…naked.” Dorcas gripped her cane, as she watched Skye splash about in a large indoor…pool?

  “She’s in a garden tub. Must be in the future,” Haven suggested.

  In the mist-enshrouded vision, Skye grew still, then looked around.

  “Does she sense she’s being watched?” Haven whispered.

  As if she had heard Haven’s words, Skye stood. Water cascaded down her naked flesh. Haven sucked in a breath, and even Dorcas clenched a fist, at the ugly scratches marring Skye’s
hip and thigh.

  “What happened to her? Who hurt her?” Haven cried.

  “Not who, but what. ‘Tis the mark of a dragon.”

  “A dragon? They’re real? But—”

  “Quiet. Someone approaches. Skye senses them, as well.” As Dorcas listened, a door creaked open. Skye turned toward the noise, knocked something off the tub’s edge, and screamed.

  An explosion of acrid smoke, and the heat of flames, slammed the bucket of water to the ground, wrenching Dorcas from the vision.

  CHAPTER 9

  Skye screamed. Jake stopped, frozen in place, at the sight of Skye standing in the middle of the huge tub. Water dripped off every curve and peak. Gripping the doorjamb to keep from striding closer, he couldn’t resist gazing at her small, perfect breasts. When she crossed her arms over her chest, he glanced lower. A nasty bruise, dissected by ugly scratches, marred her right side.

  “Hell’s fire!” The horror stirred him into action, and he walked toward her. He stopped beside the tub, as she grabbed a bath towel, covering her nakedness.

  “Have gentlemen in this age not heard of knocking?” she hissed. She growled other words he didn’t understand.

  “Did you just curse at me in Gaelic?”

  Her glare screamed yes.

  He suddenly realized how small she was. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Forgive me, but I thought I heard a crash.”

  Reaching down, she picked up the largest shard of glass. “I asked Jenny for some water. She showed me the water basin and pump,” she said, pointing to the sink and faucet. ‘Tis fresh, and as clean as a bubbling spring beneath a waterfall. I love the taste.” She set the large piece of broken glass on the edge of the tub, and licked her lips.

  It took Jake several seconds to catch his breath. “Do you like waterfalls?”

  She nodded, running fingers through her glossy hair.

  Jake sucked in another breath. “I only wanted to make sure you hadn’t slipped. I’ll leave—”

  “Nay. ‘Tis fine. I would rather not be alone, truth be told. I have a nasty feeling that eyes are watching me. Sit.” Skye pointed her chin toward the stool in the corner, and Jake sat.

  “No one can see you.” He pointed to the window. The shade was drawn and not even a fraction of sunlight poked through. Jake tried not to stare at the delicate beauty she’d become during the last five years.